Dead and Alive
by Bane of Achilles
Summary: A zombie apocalypse seen through the eyes of one very sarcastic protagonist,and other survivors with interesting personalities.Expect plenty of shots to be taken at modern zombie films,among other things. Read and review,if you wouldn't mind
1. Chapter 1

Name:Micheal Hunter  
Race:Black  
Age:19  
College student,has a thing for videogames,heavy metal,sarcasm,cynicism,and skepticism  
Also privy to sidebar conversations with himself,and is known to get into long debates about the most insignificant of things

December 12,2010  
Mike woke up like it was any other day.  
After he took care of business in the bathroom, he ventured outside and took a deep whiff of the air. Almost immediately he gagged.  
"What the hell?" he wondered. "Is that smell?"  
He looked down and saw the answer to his question. On his porch was what seemed to be a human leg, and holding onto it was some guy who appeared to be casually gnawing on it.  
"Well, no better way to start off a morning than to see some guy going to town on some poor fellows leg." he said; really to no one in particular. "Speaking of, I think it's time for breakfast."  
While he was eating, he turned on the TV; half the channels were pure static, but he soon found a news station that had yet to be knocked off the air. After a few minutes of watching what shows they had, he had formed a pretty good idea on what the hell was going on.  
"Of all the shit that could've happened to end the world, it's a damn zombie apocalypse. Looks like those Mayans were 2 years off schedule with their prediction."  
He then stepped back outside and dumped the remainder of bacon grease from his pan onto the zombie-leg-eater on his porch.  
"It's too early for this shit. I'm going back to sleep."


	2. Chapter 1 pt 2

**A/N:This is my first story,with help from someone I consider to be a master she's helping co-write and review not to make it too harsh**

Name: Cynthia Burnside  
Race: Mixed (Caucasian and Hispanic)  
Age: 21  
Secretary at a Law Firm; enjoys drinking and smoking.  
She's more of a heavy drinker and mild smoker with just a side job and very few hobbies.

After keying in the password to her apartment complex, Cynthia shouldered open the gate and walked into the large open courtyard that surrounded the large building. While a few walls seemed to be on the crumbling side and a few windows might've possibly been smashed in, the place was still somewhat like home; or at least after the late-night shift, it was sure as hell better than the office. Grumbling as she took the rusting staircase to the second floor, she rubbed the back of her sore neck and tried to focus on something a bit more enlightening than the nine hour shift she would be working in just five hours. There was her comfy bed with a loose spring that stabbed into her spine, there was the malfunctioning dishwasher that overloaded on soap this morning, the toaster that caused a small-to-mild fire yesterday, and her shower that personally chose whether to have hot water or not.  
Well, a sore back, soap feet, burn marks and cold shivers sure as hell beat doing more paperwork at her nice little corner office in the middle of the closet. Stretching, she listened to her sore muscles ease out of discomfort while her tired bones popped back into place. She searched for her room key as she walked along the second floor balcony; eventually digging the chain out of her jacket pocket as she rounded the corner. Her mild heeled shoes stopped clicking against the rough pathway as she looked up at the sound of water dripping. While she couldn't see the whole picture, what she could tell was that just a few feet in front of her a man was knelt down on the ground eating at something on the floor. An arm dangled over the edge of the balcony with blood pumping from ripped tendons and arteries; this, she assumed, was the source of the noise that she had labled as dripping water. She watched as the man sat up suddenly on his knees before slowly turning to her; blood bubbled over his lips as bits of flesh and intestines were stuck in his teeth. The body that convulsed in front of him had its stomach turned more into a cavity as everything had been scooped out and/or devoured.  
"Oh man...I chose the wrong day to stop drinking."


	3. Chapter 2

When Michael woke back up, it was 2 in the afternoon. He sat on the edge of his bed and analyzed the situation at hand. He came to a relatively simple solution. "Either I can sit here and get eaten like a chump, or I can go out, have some fun, and probably die fighting. It's not everyday that a zombie apocalypse comes to fruition." he concluded.

"Now if videogames and movies have taught me anything, we (and by we I mean survivors),have at least 3 days until the military decides to carpet-bomb or nuke this joint, so it'd be wise to get the hell out of dodge as soon as possible.".

"Also," he continued with his self debate," in order to make any kind of progress, I'd need to find a weapon, preferably a gun. Since all the closest gun shops are run by inbred hicks, that option is moot. I'd rather not get shot in the face by a drunken hillbilly. Or to have this end up like a scene out of Deliverance."

"Third," he conjectured," I'd need a conviently placed military base, and since we do in fact have one some distance away, that would be the ideal place for a weapon and vehicle to get the hell out of here.". With that in mind, he began rummaging through his things until he found an old aluminum baseball bat and a baseball cap. "I feel like the scout in TF2," he thought to himself. With that done, and the plan all formulated, he set out in his search for other, capable survivors

H

H


	4. Chapter 2 pt 2

"Well the shit's hit the fan and we're all taking a one-way ticket to the free-for-all in Hell."  
Slipping on a fresh shirt, Cynthia pulled her hair back into a low-hanging ponytail before examining her overall appearance. Her stupid pencil skirt had been switched out into a pair of ripped jeans while her tight, business top was substituted for a clean DinoShark shirt; those three-inch heels had easily been thrown out for a pair of running shoes instead. She snorted slightly before removing the dangling earrings that touched at her shoulders; no sense in looking-good if they were gonna get ripped out of her ear anyways.  
"Time to get down to business and go out and kick some massive ass." she sighed; grabbing the iron pipe she kept by her dresser side. Not a lot of people kept iron pipes in their houses, but then again not many people could accessories them into their everyday outfit. "Well massive dead ass...well if their ass aren't already decaying, I'm kicking it." Whistling as she grabbed her keys from the front table, she locked the doors behind her and stood out on the balcony; looking out at the silent-yet screaming city. Swinging the pipe at her side, she hurried down the nearest flight of stairs before heading out into the parking lot out front.  
"Cars are bad news. You get stuff in one while you're surrounded, might as well be a can of sardines in an open alleyway." she remarked; running the jagged end of her pipe along a silver-blue Honda. The serrated tip tore easily through the paint and metal to produce an ear-splitting shriek that could rival that of nails on a chalkboard.  
Hell the Zombie Apocalypse didn't happen everyday.  
She was sure as hell going to take advantage of it while it did though.  
"Let's go bitches!" she called out as she kicked open the front gate and walked out into the open streets. "I put my ass-kicking shoes on today!"  
A long-drawn out moan caught her ears as she turned to see one of the undead creatures stumble towards her. Arms were hung straight out in front of him, with strips of flesh hanging down like cut threads of a shirt; piercing white eyes seemed to be glued to her own as his body lurched forward on a broken ankle. Tightening her grip on the pipe, she waited for the undead creature to get within swinging range before making the first move; the pipe edge cut a clean piece of flesh off of the creature's head; the loose slip of flesh flew off to reveal the white of his skull underneath. The creature lunched forward and forced her to make a backwards swing next to twerp his motives; the pipe cracked cleanly across the side of his head. The force of the swing was enough to knock the creature to his knees, which she completed his fall with a swift kick to the back of the skull; watching as the creature face-planted into the concrete. Rotating her wrist, she held the pipe in both hands and impaled it through the back of the creature's head; listening to the sickening crunch of the skull giving in. Blood squirted out from the injury, forcing her to retreat back a few steps to avoid the spraying effect. Shaking her head, she walked back and placed a foot against its head; her hands grabbing the pipe tightly before she ripped it clean out. Brain matter and skull fragments stuck to the pipe surface and slid downward in an oozing manner that made her cringed slightly.  
First kill.  
"How does that make you feel?" she questioned; turning away from the site as she continued down the street. Her dark eyes looking at the burning, screaming buildings around her; cars were piled up in wrecks all over the sidewalks and store fronts; the sky above her, which at this time would've been a golden-brown from the sun's descend to the horizon, was instead a dark gray as smoke from the buildings and wrecks began to collect in the atmosphere above them.  
"Pretty kick-ass."


	5. Chapter 3

Achievement Unlocked: Total Annihilation. As a chronic gamer, he couldn't help but think of it."I wonder," he mused, "If we've got zombies here, what the hell else is out there? Are there like special zones or something that specialize in different games and /or movies? Because if I see Pyramid Head, a Tank, A Chainsaw Ganado, a Necromorph, or El Gigante, I'm just going to go ahead and off myself to save the excruciating pain. Or a DinoShark. Especially a DinoShark.".

As he finished up that thought, he saw one of the undead shuffling towards him. One of his eyeballs was hanging out of the socket and it had slight depressions in the sides, as if somebody ha d stuck their fingers in there and purposefully pulled it out. As Mr. Flesh Pile spotted Mike, its slow shamble turned into a jerky run.

"Dammit, don't tell me they're runners! Runners always kick more survivor ass than their slower, fodder-prone counterparts!" he exclaimed. As he said this, he readied his bat and took a samurai-like stance. Just as the meat man seemed to overtake him, he side-stepped and gave him a good smack to the back of his head. There was a sickening thud and what sounded like a muffled crack, and then the flesh eater fell like a sack of raw hamburger.

Mike then proceeded to curb-stomp him. "Can't be too careful these days." he said. After he finished scraping brain matter off the bottom of his sneaker, he looked up and saw someone else off in the distance. It looked like a woman holding a pipe, so he deduced that it wasn't your standard brain monkey jonesing for some flesh. Another survivor possibly, but was she hostile? Only one way to find out. "Oi!" he shouted to the figure.


	6. Chapter 3 pt 2

"You figure in a city of over thousands of people, I'd fucking run into at least one person who didn't eat a bad piece of meat." Cynthia scowled as she set her hands on her hips. "Then again most people here cut me off during rush hour, cut in front of me in line at the grocery store, grab my ass, peek through my windows when I'm in the shower, steal my mail, try to steal my identity, offer to buy me drinks, tell me I'm the one who's wrong- ah fuck it, I hope everyone in this city is dead meat."  
She turned at the sound of another voice calling out; taking note of a figure not too far behind her, she tapped the end of her pipe against the street as she tried to deduct who this new figure was. "Well I guess a new contestant has entered the field." from the looks of it, he was human…a living one anyways. He had too many pieces intact to even qualify for a dead one, plus she couldn't smell his rotting flesh from here, so it seemed like things were good to go. "Nice to see another face around here…well a living one anyways…preferably in one piece without an eyeball hanging out. Anyways, you get my point. Now if we were to follow the movie clichés that happen in every event like this, then I guess I can give you three minutes to convince me to come with you and fight the massive wave of undead around us. Just kidding, I don't give a shit about any of that; although I suppose we could give ourselves a higher chance of surviving by sticking together, strength in numbers as they always say. So what's your name? Where did you come from? You're probably wondering why I'm speaking kind of fast, but truth be told, I haven't had a smoke or a good drink in at least two hours and sometimes I just try to keep talking till I eventually pass out…which would be my natural reaction to drinking and smoking too much-" she paused as she watched yet another undead figure stumble its way free from the crowded alleyway and start towards her. Sighing, she rolled her neck and picked up her pipe.  
"Come on dude, you couldn't wait for me to finish talking? I got a lot to cover here."  
The undead figure came within only swinging distance before she knocked it flat on its back; her pipe making a deep cavity in its decaying sternum. Stabbing the pipe through the rest of the decaying material, she clutched the melee weapon with both hands and twisted it till she heard the breastplate and ribs begin to crack and splinter away. She twisted it till her strength partly ran out on the motion and removed the now disgustingly-dripping pipe; afterwards, she planted the sharpened end nicely into the center of the creature's head.  
"Sorry about that, these things just love to drool on my parade here." Cynthia panted. "Anyways, let's keep going with this whole 'introduction' thing. The name's Cynthia, Cynthia Burnside. Not sure if that's really an important piece to know but it will be followed by a 'I have no temptation or plan of using you for zombie bait just so I may get away safely' statement. After all, where's the fun in living in this big-old dead city by yourself?"


	7. Chapter 3 pt 3

Mike finished walking up to the young woman just as she was pulling her length of pipe out of the zombie's head. Then he introduced himself. 'Hunter. Michael Hunter. And that was the second most badass thing I've ever seen in my life. The first was some guy who was in his 60's fist-fighting a grizzly bear. While on a unicycle. _And_ _winning._ And I appreciate you deciding to not use me as escape bait, because that would suck.' He took a breath. 'Anyway, I was just on my way to the local, conveniently placed Marine base. Hoping to find some weapons more suitable than this bat, and transportation out of this place 'fore it gets blown to hell and back. You can come if you want, with any luck we might find more survivors.' 'So whaddaya say?'

As he finished this long speech, they both heard a high pitched female wail that originated from a few blocks away. 'Gotta set of pipes on her eh?' he muttered to himself 'I suppose someone has to go rescue the damsel in distress, or whatever the hell. So, what do you think we should do?' he asked.


	8. Chapter 3 pt 4

"How fun. The last woman I heard with a set of lungs like that... well actually I'm pretty sure it was in a movie- an inappropriate one at that. But that's besides the point." Cynthia remarked as she moved to stroke aside a loose bang; dark eyes making a keep to watch the environment around them. "How lovely... but the base sounds promising, I mean nothing bad could come out of it, right? Completely safe and secure, just like the movies."  
Sarcasm was a talent.  
Swinging her pipe around at her side, she gave into a soft stretch and watched as a few more shadows began to move around them. Then again, what were they expecting? They were standing in the middle of the road like this was the safest place to be; like no one in the whole world could see. Well, that is if anyone else alive still existed in the world. Oh who was she kidding? This kind of outbreak was probably small-scale, only isolated in this kind of town; in which case, the government would soon be here to bomb them free of this undead, lifeless misery.  
She was honestly having fun with it.  
After all, what other time permitted her to run down the street with a pipe whose sole purpose was to beat in people's skulls in?  
... okay there was that one time, but she had too much to drink and it didn't count.  
"Well then, let's go, after all I'm in it for the kicks and giggles anyways."


End file.
